Realms of Magic - Brian Thomsen King [82]
The lich gazed into Frodyne's eyes. "My skeletons were patrolling. Nothing more. But, tell me, Frodyne… why didn't the priest simply enter the temple and take the relic for himself?"
"I wondered that, too, Master." The young apprentice beamed. "I pressed him on the matter. He admitted that while he coveted the relic, he coveted his life more. It seems the Goddess of Liars has guardians and great magic protecting her prize."
The lich stood and drew Frodyne up with him. "And just what is this relic of Leira?"
"A crown. The priest said a great energy is harnessed in the crown's gems." Frodyne smiled thinly and stroked Szass Tarn's decaying chin. "And we shall share that crown and energy, just as I shared the priest's tale with you."
The lich stepped back and shook his head slowly. "I shall send my skeletal army into the heart of the temple and claim the relic as my own."
"Yours, Master?"
"Aye, Frodyne."
"But you would not know of its existence without me." She put her hands on her hips and glared at him. "This is treachery, Szass Tarn. I could have claimed the bauble for myself, with you none the wiser. But I chose to share the news with you."
"And in so doing, you chose to abandon your claim to it," the lich replied icily. "The relic will be mine alone. You have done well, my apprentice. I shall have another bauble to add to my hoard."
The comely apprentice strode indignantly to the door, then glanced over her shoulder at the lich. "But what of Leira, Szass Tarn? What if you anger the Patroness of Illusionists and Liars by breaching her temple and stealing something of hers?"
Szass Tarn laughed. "I have little regard for the goddess of treachery, dear Frodyne. Get some rest. I shall tell you in the morning what my skeletons find in Delhumide."
The lich listened to her footfalls retreat down the hall. Soon she would not need sleep. Or food. Soon she would need none of the things that made man weak, allowing her to one day sit at his side as he ruled all of Thay.
The lich sat straight in his chair and pushed Frodyne from his thoughts. He concentrated on his army of skeletons in Delhumide, stretching his mind across the miles until he made contact with his undead general and directed him to march to Leira's temple. The miles melted away beneath the soldiers' bony feet as they neared the ruined temple of Leira. In an untiring cadence, they approached the temple steps. Then Szass Tarn lost contact with them.
The lich cursed and cast himself upon the Thayan winds to fly to Delhumide. As he soared, his form changed. His skin took on a ruddy tint. His cheeks became puffy, and his body thickened to fill out the red silk robes that only moments before had hung on his frame in voluminous folds. His eyes became black, almost human, and his white hair grew thicker and longer, then darkened to match the color of the night sky. The lich added a thin mustache for effect. Few in Thay knew Szass Tarn was one of the dead. Outside the confines of his keep he assumed the image of a living man.
The ground passed below him in a blur, the darkness obscuring most of the terrain. But the lich didn't falter in his course. He knew the way to the dead city. He'd been born there.
It was near dawn when he reached the ruined temple. He descended to the rough ground and glared at the crumbling stonework. His eyes smoldered in the gloom and surveyed the carnage. He knew now why he'd lost contact with his army. Strewn about the shattered pillars were more than a hundred skeletal warriors. Their broken bones and crushed skulls gleamed faintly. Near them lay more dead-figures with tattered gray flesh and rotting clothes, things that stank of the grave. The lich knelt near a one-armed zombie and slowly turned the body over. It had little flesh left on its frame. Most of it had been burned away by fire.